I could never stand the snow,
it’s nice to see sometimes,
but it’s never good to feel.

Winter becomes a dark sad time,
and the people get fat.
The snow adds more work
into my life, and I never want to
work, I rather sit on the couch
and then jump up quickly, walking
quickly to my room to write
another mighty bad poem.

Quickly I type it before it leaves my head,
when it leaves it never comes back.
The one week in the dead winter cold. I had a poem in my head,
and I had nothing to write with.
I was going crazy, ahhhhh…
but I FOUND ONE!
and I ripped a blank page
from the book I was reading.
finally letting it out,
finally relaxed.